


Trinity

by Ceris_Malfoy



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Character Study, Fear, Gen, Insanity, Introspection, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceris_Malfoy/pseuds/Ceris_Malfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truth behind the Command Trine.<br/>1. Skywarp fears Starscream.<br/>2. Thundercracker loves Starscream and pities Skywarp.<br/>3. Starscream is broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skywarp: Fear

Skywarp fears Starscream.

He is not as deep a thinker as Thundercracker, but he is not unintelligent, despite the way he acts. In some ways, he is smarter than his younger brother, at least when it comes to Starscream.

The day Starscream found Thundercracker in the slums of Vos and returned the lost youngling, Skywarp knew without a doubt that Starscream was going to claim them both as trine one day.

And he did. Partly out of revenge against their shared code-writer who had abandoned Starscream to the slums of Kaon; partly because even at a much younger age, both Skywarp and Thundercracker were clearly of superior make; but mostly because Thundercracker had witnessed Starscream rip several fully-developed seeker into shreds but had still crawled into Starscream's arms with all the trust and wonder only sparklings are capable of.

He remembers that night so well. How, after getting verbally abused by his creators, Starscream had torn into both of them – never once lifting a servo; never once so much as twitching; never even raising his voice beyond a quiet rasp. The seeker had wielded his words like a finely edged blade, slicing deep into their processors and sparks. By the end of Starscream's tirade, both adult seekers were shattered beyond repair, owned and twisted to suit Starscream's purpose.

Skywarp knows that Starscream is not just smart, he is _alarmingly_ clever. He also knows that Starscream has never been quite sane. Starscream is violence, lust, hatred, and obsession all wrapped up in one convenient package; and all of it hidden by the great gift of his processing speed and is uncannily brilliant manipulations.

Thundercracker, he knows, is blind to the _wrongness_ that lies in Starscream's spark – a rot, an infestation, a _taint_ that had been born in Kaon and nurtured in Vos. Starscream is the product of circumstances beyond his control, but Skywarp can't help but wonder if his half-brother is a victim of his circumstances, or a willing participant. After all, the seeker's intelligence alone should have been enough to get him out of the slums, but then again, with all the prejudice against the war-build….

There is no love in Starscream, despite what Thundercracker may think. Of the two of them, Thundercracker is definitely Starscream's favorite, but Starscream doesn't love them; doesn't love anyone. That seeker takes others' love, want, and admiration and consumes it; uses it for his own ambitions and pays no mind to just how quickly that love turns to hate, want turns to disgust, admiration turns to fear. He tears through the other mechs with little to no regard for any of them. Starscream cares nothing about anything of them, and it shows. It is a comment of just how good a manipulator Starscream is that despite their fear, their hate, and their disgust, every single one of Starscream's victims eagerly come back for more.

Thundercracker thinks Starscream is _home_ ; thinks the tri-color seeker loves him in his own dysfunctional way; thinks that despite all the betrayals and lies that Starscream _cares_.

Skywarp knows better, and that knowing is what truly scares him, because he knows that if their deaths could bring Starscream that much closer to his goals, their trine-leader wouldn't hesitate, and wouldn't even feel guilt after the deed was done.


	2. Thundercracker: Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth behind the Command Trine.  
> 1\. Skywarp fears Starscream.  
> 2\. Thundercracker loves Starscream and pities Skywarp.  
> 3\. Starscream is broken.

Thundercracker will never forget the first time he met Starscream.

Despite popular theory, Thundercracker is actually the youngest of the trine. Starscream is the oldest by two decavorns, the product of a rather indiscrete affair between his and Skywarp's code-writer and Starscream's carrier. Consequently, Thundercracker had never met his older half-brother until one fateful day when he had given his creators and Skywarp the slip and had gone exploring. Being so young, it had not been surprising that he had gotten lost.

In the slums of Vos.

He remembers being curious and fascinated, too young to understand that the slums were no place for a youngling; too young to be afraid. He had wandered around absently, not really paying attention to where he was going, and had run into a group of over-charged seekers. He had also run into an almost fully-grown seeker, a really _pretty_ tri-colored one. He remembers how the over-charged seekers had begun to harass him, had attempted to pick him up and take him with them (possibly for ransom purposes, possibly for … _darker_ purposes), when the tri-colored seeker _moved_.

The fight was a brutally vicious one with various body parts flying around (he distinctly remembered someone's disembodied wing ending up embedded in a wall not far from where he had been standing). Nevertheless, it was over quickly, and the only one to walk away from that fight had been the slim, tri-colored seeker with blazing crimson optics and a look of proud superiority. Starscream.

Thundercracker still remembers that proud, deadly creature turning its equally deadly gaze onto him; still remembers how at first he had been afraid, but then how his spark had actually clenched in both recognition and longing; still remembers the way Starscream gave him a wicked grin full of dark promises. Thundercracker remembers how _gently_ Starscream had picked him up – he had just seen those clawed-servos shred multiple seekers, yet despite his much thinner armor, he felt nothing more than the firm grip of heated metal and the slightly sticky glide of cooling energon.

He remembers Starscream taking him out of the slums; remembers Starscream stalking down the streets of Vos' higher-end neighborhoods like he belonged there; remembers the reception Starscream received when he returned him unharmed. He remembers listening to his creators yelling at Starscream while he watched from the safety of Skywarp's grasp, and not understanding _why_. Thundercracker remembers the way Starscream had looked at him and Skywarp, but mostly at him; remembers how with that single look the gentle seeker that had carried him home vanished and became the energon-covered _God_ that had taken on six fully-grown seekers and _won_. He remembers the way Starscream had laid into his creators then, voice too soft for him to hear what was being said, but knowing that whatever was being said _scared_ his creators.

He remembers how, despite his very young age, he _knew_ Starscream would claim him and Skywarp as his trine. A small part of him had been scared – he was not blind, no matter what Skywarp thinks, and Starscream has clearly never been altogether there – but most of him had anticipated what it would feel like to be claimed by such a powerfully capricious being.

He likes to remember how excited he had been when his creators finally caved and Starscream moved in with them. He likes to remember how proud he had been when it was discovered that despite the fact that Starscream had never had a formal education, he was still more than intelligent enough to score very highly on the entrance exams to the Iacon Science Academy. He likes to remember how Starscream's optics had always watched him as he grew.

He does not like to remember just how badly he had torn into Skywarp when the purple jet mentioned how relieved he was to know Starscream was out of their lives for a long time. He does not like to remember how long he had to wait for Starscream to come home; does not like to remember the oddly silent Starscream that returned to him.

Thundercracker loves Starscream, and he knows that Starscream loves him back as much as he was capable of it. Thundercracker is well aware that there is something not quite _right_ about his half-brother, but that is partly what draws him so intensely to the seeker. Honor and pride has been coded within his very spark – it thrills him to join with a seeker who had chaos and mayhem written within his the way Starscream does.

That being said, he knows Skywarp doesn't understand; _can't_ understand. Skywarp has never had all that beautiful danger wrapped around him, clawed servos trailing gracefully and ever-so-carefully across his frame; has never had all the fierce passion and processor-blowing lust buried deep within him and _moving_. Skywarp never will, either, because Skywarp is afraid.

He is, admittedly, _right_ to be afraid – Starscream _is_ frightening and even Thundercracker fears how far their trine leader is willing to go to further his ambitions.

But no matter how bad things get – and they've gotten pretty bad ever since crashing on Earth - no matter how bitter the betrayals and hurtful the lies, there is no denying the way Starscream is written across his very spark. Even when he's finally gotten tired of putting up with Starscream, all it takes is one little gesture – an appreciative glance, a rare word of praise, a gentle servo brushing carefully against his wing, that playful little purring tone that Starscream uses when he wants to 'play' – and he _remembers_.

He remembers that Starscream isn't quite _right_ , but that it's hardly Starscream's fault. He remembers that in the past several million years (not counting the ones they spent in stasis lock), he is the _only_ one privileged and trusted enough to share Starscream's berth. He remembers that he is the _only_ one that Starscream has _ever_ bared his mutated spark to; the only one Starscream has _truly_ claimed as his.

Sometimes he feels pity for Skywarp, because were it not for Skywarp's all-consuming fear of Starscream, the three of them probably could have been a trine in the truest sense, and not this quiet mockery of one. Instead, he ends up playing mediator between two opposing forces seeking to claim him totally. He pities Skywarp too much to break the purple jet's hope that he can still save him from Starscream, because no matter what stunt Starscream pulls, or how much Skywarp pleads, Thundercracker still loves Starscream, and will _always_ love him.

He knows that Starscream will be the death of him one day, but as long as it is by Starscream's servos, Thundercracker doesn't think he'll mind. After all, while Starscream will most assuredly feel neither guilt nor regret over the deed, Thundercracker knows that Starscream will remember _him_ long after all other victims become soundless and faceless ghosts.

And that is enough for him.


	3. Starscream: Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth behind the Command Trine.  
> 1\. Skywarp fears Starscream.  
> 2\. Thundercracker loves Starscream and pities Skywarp.  
> 3\. Starscream is broken.

Starscream is not right; is not sane; is dangerously out of control, and he knows it.

Back when Cybertron was still whole, there had been no place on it quite like Kaon. Kaon was a festering blight upon the otherwise healthy whole of Cybertron that was acknowledged only when there was no other choice. It was the last home of those forgotten or hated by the elite among Cybertronian society; it was the hiding place of those broken and cast aside like useless toys. The whole of Kaon was a slum in of itself, so it could only be inferred that the actual slums of Kaon were the living Pit.

Those disease-ridden sectors of Kaon were most certainly no place for _any_ sparkling, let alone a seekerlet barely out of his first frame.

Starscream liked to tell others that he had _thrived_ in Kaon, and in some ways that is the truth, or as close to it as he can get. Because, for sure, _something_ had thrived in Kaon; _something_ had spread its virus-infused wings and took off. But the raw truth of the matter was that he had barely endured Kaon.

There had been other sparklings, the gutter-born as they were called, with which he should have been able to run with, but he had not been welcome amongst them. He had been too delicate, too fragile to help earn his keep in their groups. Instead, he had become a target. The energon he had sometimes nearly off-lined himself to get was stolen from him regularly; he had been often beat into the ground for no offense other than existing; had often been locked in small, enclosed spaces simply for the _fun_ of hearing his maddened screams.

He was a fast learner though, and the same natural inclination towards speed and agility that would later make him a deadly opponent was the only reason he had remained alive. He had better reflexes, claws, and the sheer desperation to kill, but what use were they against groundlings whose much-thicker armor had been seemingly designed to take a beating, while the smallest touch could send his own sensors screaming? So, he had learned how to avoid them; how to run and hide. Coward, they called him, but he had _lived_ , and that was all that really mattered as far as he had been concerned.

He had left Kaon as soon as he had figured out sustained flight, and had headed straight for Vos. He had taken with him from Kaon two rules of existence that he had cultivated and nurtured close to his spark. The first: _He could rely on no one but himself._ No other being would ever help him. Those that said they wanted to help _always_ lied. Relying on others would always lead to pain, humiliation, or death. _Always_. The second: _Nothing was free._ There was always a price, and more often than not, that price was something he could ill afford to loose. If a deal looked too good to be true, it most likely was.

Despite these rules, he had been young and naïve enough to still have hope that Vos would be different. That maybe he had a carrier or code-writer who would surely take him in. That maybe he could become a ward of the city-state, which surely would have been better than living in the polluted streets of Kaon. He had hoped with every last pulse of his spark that things would be different, that things would be _better_.

There were no words to describe the hurt when he had received no welcome at all.

No one had cared that he was still a youngling in need of support and guidance. No one had cared that with a little training and education, he would have been a seekerlet any would have been proud to claim as their own. No one had cared that he was suffering the effects of long-term energon deprivation. No one had cared that the sensors in his wings were damaged and that every twitch and movement brought a fresh wave of agony that nothing could assuage. No one had cared that he was young, too young to even be flying on his own, and yet was already well-versed in what it meant to suffer.

No one had cared.

_No one_.

Bitter, he had sunk into the slums of Vos, taking comfort in the similarities between those refuse-filled streets and those of Kaon. He spent the next several vorns like a ghost, drifting from group to group; welcomed because he was a fellow seeker down on his luck and never noticed, exiled because he was _wrong_. He was too intelligent and too volatile; his systems too powerful and his frame too small and lithe to belong to a gutter-born seeker.

He had eventually became obsessed with his origins, wondering who his creators were and why he had been abandoned. Vosnian security and firewalls had been an absolute joke – barely any skill in hacking and yet he had been able to break into the system with ease. Public record had a smaller-than-average seekerlet matching his description as 'lost', the carrier of the seekerlet as 'self-exiled in grief'. Private record, however, said that his carrier had been executed for code-theft after the affair between her and his much higher-classed code-writer had been discovered; the resulting sparkling left in Kaon to die.

Fury consumed his being, and he had drifted in a hazy cloud of anger, violence, and deadly intent for many vorns afterwards. The few groups that had been willing to associate with him had dropped contact with him quickly – his rages were indiscriminate between friend and foe, and he was no longer the small seekerlet that was too weak to do much damage. No one even attempted to make contact with him during his few lucid periods, as his calm moments scared them twice as badly as his rages did. Had it not been for Thundercracker, he might have continued living in that maddened haze right up until the start of the Great War.

He remembered the little blue seekerlet with his stubby wing-nubs and bright, curious optics. He remembered how he had seen the innocence that lit the seekerlet's optics like a beacon and felt an unreasonable amount of anger for it. That seekerlet had never known what it was like to be so hungry he'd willingly cannibalize another just to have something in his tank; had never known what it was like to sit silent and pained as he was forced to watch as the ones who beat him drank his energon. That seekerlet had never known what it was like to be trapped in a small box and be deprived of the sky for the amusement of others; had never known what it was like to be _used_ , over and over and over and over again. He remembered how he had been fully prepared to leave the innocent seekerlet to the harassment of the overcharged seekers the sparkling had run into; how he had wanted that innocent seekerlet to know what it was like to be a gutter-born.

He remembered how set he had been all set to leave them to it, and then how he had looked –really, truly, _looked_ – at the seekerlet. All the rage he had felt had left him to be replaced with a strange, aching numbness. _His_ crimson optics, _his_ delicate frame, _his_ elegantly-formed facial plating… the seekerlet had been the spitting image of him at that age, with only the difference of coloration and an un-dented frame to separate them. He had remembered the way his spark had clenched; the way everything froze for a brief moment before the rage had come back: a possessive rage that burned cold and steady in his spark, so different from the previous inferno that had tormented him.

He remembered how the crowd of overcharged idiots harassing his most-likely half-brother had moved as if to pick the seekerlet up and take him, and how he himself had _moved_ , cold focus making his faster and stronger. He wasn't positive, and he had never bothered to check, but he thinks he may have offlined every last one of them. He does remember being covered in an inordinate amount of energon, and vaguely recalls something about embedding a dismembered wing into a wall, but mostly he remembers the ice-cold fury towards the code-writer that had dared _replace_ him, the fierce sense of possession towards the tiny sparkling, and the vague-but-quickly-growing _need_.

He remembered how Thundercracker, despite having witnessed such brutality, crawled ever-so-trustingly into his arms, cooing and chirping and cuddling close to him. There had been a brief surge in his spark, strange and vaguely frightening, and he remembered knowing that this sparkling would one day be _his_.

He remembered how he had delighted in forcing his code-writer to acknowledge him, house him, and pay for his formal education. He remembers how he had watched both Skywarp and Thundercracker grow and mature, noting that while Skywarp was both an idiot and a coward, Thundercracker had showed promise. Thundercracker had been so young, so eager, so completely enthralled that Starscream couldn't help but come to care for him, in a manner of speaking. Certainly, neither their shared code-writer nor Skywarp were at all pleased with either Thundercracker's growing infatuation, or Starscream's careful encouragement of said crush.

He had left for the Iacon Institute of the Sciences, where he had met Skyfire. Skyfire, whom had soothed some deep ache in his spark that he hadn't even been aware he had. Skyfire, who loved him deeply despite his faults and desired him despite the fact that Starscream had been used too much, at too young an age to truly desire him back. Skyfire, who wanted to bond with Starscream, despite the fact that an earlier medical examination had revealed that there was an unstable mutation in his spark, one that would prevent him from ever bonding fully. Skyfire, who had given up a prestigious position on the Science Council so that they could travel space together.

Starscream remembered that time; remembered how Skyfire had shattered his whole world into tiny pieces and how he had been swept along into a realm of happiness, safety, and contentment that he had never known before, and would never know again.

True to form, nothing was free, and the price for his knowing such peace had been paid by both of them in pride and death. Skyfire: missing, assumed dead or abandoned on a distant planet. Him: unjustly accused of a murder he didn't commit and sent back to his code-writer in disgrace; stripped of his degrees, the right to call himself a scientist, and the right to work in any institution that might have been willing to hire him. The festering wound in his spark that had only just begun to heal under Skyfire's patient care had been ripped open and infected anew.

For three orns afterwards, he had sat in his room in his code-writer's house, staring out the window at a sky he irrationally hated because Skyfire would never fly in it again. The other seekers in the house drifted on the edge of his consciousness, none of them daring to enter his room and confront him. He remembered the harsh words and arguments, the disagreements about what they should do with him. He remembered that of all the seekers in that house, only Thundercracker stood up for him.

Which is probably why he had ended up in Thundercracker's room one dark night, staring down at his half-brother's recharging form, and thinking. His brief time with Skyfire had taught him something very important about himself: he couldn't stand to be alone. He had had enough of being alone in the slums; had had enough of being feared and hated simply because he was different. Thundercracker… Despite having abandoned the young seeker for first the academy and then for Skyfire; despite knowing him for what he was; despite knowing what he was capable of doing, Thundercracker still accepted him, still wanted him.

He knew he shouldn't do it yet, that he should wait until Thundercracker was fully of age; knew that if he did what he had been thinking of doing that there would be no going back, not for him and certainly not for Thundercracker. He knew that if he did this now, there was a chance he would never again find the kind of love and acceptance Skyfire had given him. He remembered how, at the end of that night, he had decided that he was alright with that because everything had a price, and he couldn't bear to pay that price again. And when he had Thundercracker beneath him, writhing and moaning and begging him ever-so-prettily for _more_ , Starscream felt something in his spark wither and die.

He didn't care.

The years had passed in a blur of relentless training and sleepless nights of passion. He had been determined that Thundercracker would be as good in the air as he was – call him what they will, mock him as they wished, no one could deny that he was superior in the skies. He reluctantly trained with Skywarp as well, knowing full well that he needed a third in his trine and who better than one bound to him through Thundercracker? Thinking like this, he had started to design and build upgrades for the both of them. By the time he enrolled them in the Vosnian War Academy, Thundercracker could reach and maintain speeds up to Mach 3, which while slower than his own Mach 4, was much better than the rest of the seeker core – many of whom couldn't even reach Mach 2.5.

Skywarp, on the other hand, had been one of those unable to reach Mach 2.5. So, in order to prevent Skywarp from dragging them down, he had drawn inspiration from the tales of the first seekers: beings that could transport from one end of the planet to another with a simple thought and the correct coordinates. Building an internal teleportation device had been child's play. Constructing the coding from scratch so that even the most simple-minded idiot could use it without 'porting into a wall? A little bit harder, but not impossible.

Through his relentlessness and cold practicality, he pushed both his half-brothers until all three of them were the first amongst trines graduating the Academy, recognized, loved, and feared equally by the masses. There were no others quite like them – Starscream had seen to that. Sometimes quite _violently_.

It had come as no surprise to him when Soundwave had approached them. He had not planned on it, to be sure, but it came as no surprise. Soundwave was hardly the _only_ mech to be seeking out _his_ trine, offering little favors and sweet words to try and sway them into aligning themselves with a group/outfit/faction. Others tried to turn his half-brothers against him, unknowing just how badly Skywarp was afraid of him and just how eager to please him Thundercracker was. Others tried to coax the three of them, treat them all as equals. None of them except Soundwave had noticed that the status quo would _never_ be as equals – they were _his_ trine, and he would lead them where he willed as he willed it. Then again, considering Soundwave's little …peculiarity, it was hardly surprising that he had noticed.

Meeting Megatron had been like meeting a twisted mirror – one look and he had known almost immediately that _here_ was a mech such as himself: broken and shattered long beyond repair, but still alive, still kicking, still demanding that the world shape itself as he _ordered_. Megatron was – _is_ – madness personified, and he had known it then. Despite that knowing, he had wanted nothing more than to join the mech's cause, to _belong_ to something greater than himself, even if he hadn't understood what it would cost him in the end.

Even if he had known the cost, he probably still would have pledged his undying loyalty that day so long ago. Even in the most conniving, back-handed, ego-driven acts of treachery, he is _still_ in some strange way Megatron's. He knows Megatron knows it as well, which is his main suspicion on why he's been allowed to live so long.

And make no mistake about it, it _is_ an allowance, nothing more, nothing less.

He doesn't remember when the madness, the taint in his spark, grew out of his control. He doesn't know if it was because of one-too-many blows to the helm coupled with a distinct lack of trained medics in the Decepticon Armada, or if it was simply that he had been dangling over the edge of the Abyss for so long that the Abyss simply decided to come to him – either way, he is peripherally aware of t all.

The way his intelligence slips and slides and eventually crumbles beneath the weight of his egomania and impatience; the way his cold practicality and colder rage melt under the mindless anarchy of war and become some raging, twisted thing bent on chaos and mayhem; the way his unparalleled skills in the air become a legend, a _myth_ ; the way he has forsaken the _only_ being left in the universe that still _cares_ for him; the way he could ever-so-casually toss his lover's battered form out to the vast coldness of space, simply because he can hardly toss out Megatron without tossing his trine, given their similar status of 'wounded'… he is aware of it all, in some deep, dark, secretive nook of his processor. That part of him is _beyond_ furious with what he has become: a treacherous coward kept around for the _amusement_ factor rather than for his worth. That part of him longs for the day when Megatron _finally_ gets tired of putting up with him and simply ends it.

That part of him knows that though there are many similarities between the two of them, Megatron is different in one key matter: he is _never_ out of control. Even when all the universe is deliberately doing everything in its power to thwart him, Megatron is _still_ in control. Megatron has proven to him time and time again that there is _nothing_ that he can do to his leader that Megatron can not come back from.

That small, secretive part of him knows this; knows that his time is approaching fast. That part of him welcomes Megatron's rage, grins and sits back to watch the world explode in beautiful cacophony the way it knows will happen when Megatron returns. Even as that small, secretive part of him watches as the mad _other_ wearing his body struts around with a crown and cape and calls himself _King_ , it waits.

_He_ waits. Megatron will come, and, perhaps, he will be allowed the chance to apologize to Thundercracker before he goes to the Pit – he should have never _touched_ Thundercracker, should have left the youngest of them to a brighter future and a lover that could have loved him back. Skywarp, however, could go burn for all he cared – the damnable glitch had caused more problems than Starscream knew how to deal with, and he will _never_ forgive Skywarp for being there for Thundercracker when he wasn't, when he _couldn't_.

He waits, because Megatron will come back.

Megatron _always_ comes back.

**Author's Note:**

> Was actually working on the back-story for A Different Beginning, when I really started to deviate from where I wanted to go. A lot of fans have Starscream as the youngest of the three, but I got to thinking about TC and how he has this sort-of naïve belief in honor and fairness about him, despite his general emo-ness, so I cast his as the youngest, with Skywarp the middle, and Starscream the eldest. Also, I drew influence from the belief that monsters are made, not born – and my thoughts wondered how a monster of Starscream's caliber could have been formed. The rest grew from there. XD
> 
> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net on 07/18/10.


End file.
